The Malfoy Hairstyle
by BlackLily17
Summary: Malfoys had that certain style of having their straight blonde hair drawn back all neat and not a strand astray. Scorpius WAS determined to keep it that way, until something- or someone changes that. Oneshot. Set in NextGen. ScoRose. Enjoy.


**The Malfoy Hairstyle**

_**I'm taking a break from time travelling to get rid of my writer's block. Ugh. I'm not even liking [Literally] Twisted Fate right now. Eh, maybe this'll pass and I'll be able to update.**_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter_

* * *

Everyone knew that Malfoys have that certain hairstyle that is very common in their family that just by looking at their hair you know they're a Malfoy: and it's the straight, platinum blonde hairstyle.

Draco Malfoy owns it. Even Lucius Malfoy. And Abraxas Malfoy. And the earliest Malfoy Ancestors. And so do I.

Many have been wondering what the secret for the sleek blonde hair is. My answer? Nah, it can't be revealed. But yeah, I used to have the hairstyle. Up until mid- semester of first year, of course.

* * *

"Scorpius," Hailey, my twin sister, whined. "She's pressing my buttons and she knows it. I _can't _handle them anymore."

I rolled my eyes and bring up my book—she's whining about Stefani Parker and Eleanor Tugwood the two girls in her house (Gryffindor [Yeah, don't act so surprised]) that she can't stand. And neither could they, as it seemed.

I was sorted into Slytherin and her in Gryffindor—everybody was shocked, but it pleased the both of us. Because it meant that there's more to the Malfoy family than dark Arts and misjudgment.

"You really don't have any choice, do you? We're only halfway the semester. You have six more years to look forward to." I said wryly, looking at her. Yes, I'll admit, Hailey's violet eyes freak me out as often as they could, because I'm not used to see them even if we practically grew up with each other. One could never get used to too much violet. But hey, she didn't get violet eyes for no reason. It wasn't because she's special or anything. It's because of a disease, they said. But they wouldn't tell either of us what disease it is.

"Well, I'm not really looking forward towards it." She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She sat up and leaned against my arm, the winds blowing against us but we sit still unfazed. "They need to get used with Malfoys being nice."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Meaning?"

She grinned—that mischievous grin that usually meant we're going to sneak out of the house and patrol the muggle town nearby. "I bumped to a Hufflepuff yesterday, and she was _trembling _before me. But I helped pick up her books, and then she stuttered thanks and walked out."

She smiled brilliantly, as if what she did actually earned her the Nobel Peace Prize. (Yes, I know about that. Again, don't be so surprised.)

"Did she walk as fast as she could?" I asked interestedly.

"Yes," she answered, frowning. "But that's besides the point."

Hailey shrugged and turned silent when we saw what was happening in the nearby corridor. There were two little girls screaming, drowsed with slimy paint and actual feathers. A smile tugged at the end of my lips—okay, that was amusing. But my sister, being my sister, lost all her poise and rolled on the grass, laughing with her hand shoved up her face. Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the girl. No, wait. Forget I said that.

Behind one of the pillars, two boys came out and I easily recognized them as James Sirius Potter and Fred Weasley. Hailey waved at them and Weasley waved back—Potter did much as next to nothing but stare back. I did not like the stare—not one bit.

"I thought you were enemies?" I frowned at Hailey, who shrugged at me. "Potter is. Serves him right for being a pain in the arse. But Fred—he's tolerable. And he's actually funny."

"OI, SCORPIUS!"

I looked up and found Albus Potter, or Al as he referred to himself, run towards me carrying two big books. Behind him is his stuck up know- it- all cousin, Rose Weasley. Al is my friend (in fact, he's the only one in the Slytherin house who actually dared to befriend me) and Rose is his cousin, so it's inevitable to encounter her for most of the times. I don't enjoy those encounters, but I have to endure them, especially now that she and Hailey are getting closer. They both sat down with us.

"I found all about the cave we explored last week." He whispered.

"What cave?" Hailey asked with a frown.

"They went to go ski doodle and mess with the Forbidden Forest. Which earned them a month's worth of detention, thank you very much!" Weasley snapped, her red frizzes flying all around her. I can only express such limited feelings of hatred towards the girl.

"Really? You _explored _the Forbidden Forest and you didn't even _tell _me?" Hailey demanded. I grinned smugly at Rose who smacked her forehead with her hand in exasperation.

"So, tell me more about the cave." I turned to Al casually. He sighed. "It's in the library—I can't bring the book out because of these two."

He lifted the two big books he carries for emphasis.

"What are those two for?" I asked.

Al shrugged. "The Potions Essay. We better go—someone might remove that book from the shelf I placed it on."

We all stood—well, I _tried _to, because Rose whatever- her- middle-name is used me—my head in particular—to stand up. She smirked when she saw me glaring at her and shrugged.

It was the first time she messed my hair.

[And I'm not going to say that her hands grazing my hair have a calming effect, no.]

* * *

We usually spend our summer vacation in Madam Malkin's robe shop helping out. Madam Malkin has passed away before, and now her niece, my mother's cousin, is the one in charge of it.

I was seated on a high stool in the counter and tapped my finger against it, blinking sleepiness away. I'd bet a million galleons that Hailey is sleeping in the stock room.

The bell suddenly rung and I perked up, jumping off the stool and going to meet the new customer. "Good morning, how may I—h-help you?"

I choked on my own saliva—it was Hermione Weasley, the mother of Rose Weasley who stood right behind her. Mrs. Weasley blinked in shock when she saw me, and Rose actually _tried _to smile at me. Is she like that when her parents are around? Because that smile suited her than the frown she always wore. I didn't mean anything.

"Aren't you Scorpius Malfoy?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm—I—ah—I'm helping my aunt in the shop. She just flew to Ireland to get supplies." I mumbled. My confidence is wavering.

"Well, can you get Rose's measurements for awhile? I'll just buy something in Flourish and Blott's." she told me kindly.

"Mum, can I just—"

"Rose, we have to finish this shopping immediately. We no longer have any time after this." She turned to Rose strictly, and afterwards left the place early.

I let the enchanted measuring tapes do their work and picked the robes that corresponded to her size. When she received the pack, she tried to smile a little and ruffled my hair as she passed by. "Thanks, Malfoy."

And that was the second time Weasley messed my hair.

* * *

I was serving my first detention of the year with Professor Wakefield. I didn't do any prank, par se—he just liked punishing _me _in particular. I might have had three detentions minimum every year because of him. Bloody idiot.

I trudged and knocked in his room. "Good evening, Professor."

"Mr. Malfoy." He said in that annoying raspy voice. "Am I glad to see you."

I walked in and entered the room. It didn't surprise me to find a bit of reptilians in the room—(Professor Wakefield is the kind of reptilian guy)—but the fact that Rose Weasley _was_ in there, her hand poised over a piece of parchment. She blushed when she met my eyes and I grinned.

It's the first time that Rose the- good- girl Weasley got detention. [I've been making too many middle names for her. Maybe I should ask her real one to Al soon.]

I sat next to Rose and the Professor with the white and black hair handed me a parchment.

"It'll be lines, then?" I asked casually.

"Don't use that tone on me!" he snapped. "And yes, it would be lines. Seventy- five for you!"

I grumbled and from the corner of my eyes I saw Rose bloody Weasley stifle laughter. I grumbled more and started with the lines so I could finish early.

By the time that I finished the last line, my hand was numb and sore. I flexed my fingers and exited the room with a sigh. Rose came after me—she just finished her twenty- lined paper. Now I'm wondering if I was a fast writer or _she_ just writes slowly.

"Malfoy," she gasps, catching her breath.

"Weasley," I acknowledged back. "What anomaly manifested and landed you on detention?"

"Your sister, that's what." She replied with a wry manner. I peered at her curiously, urging her silently to continue. "I punched Manuel Allen."

My eyebrows rose on their own accord, my fists clenching on their own. "Isn't Manuel Allen the well- known Gryffindor man- whore?"

The guy is in seventh year now—thank goodness he's leaving. But what did he do for Rose to punch him?

"Yes," Rose answered impatiently. "And he tried to snog Hailey on our way to Transfiguration. Plus he tried to cup my butt. Hailey kneed his groin and I punched his face."

She seemed to watch my reaction, because she added "No need to get in trouble for it, Scorp. I've already done that."

"So, why didn't he get detention?" I asked.

"Wakefield didn't see it."

"What about my sister?"

"Professor Longbottom persuaded Wakefield because Hailey has another detention to attend to, and apparently, this one's more important. Hey, your sister's been landing on detentions too much lately."

"I'd never have any say on her decisions." I scoffed.

A moment of silence passed.

"So, what did you do to land on detention?" she asked me conversationally. I was shocked, because I didn't actually expect her to initiate a conversation.

"Wakefield being his usual prick self." I shrugged.

"Oh."

Another moment of silence.

When we reached a certain staircase, Rose turned to me with a little smile. "I should go. Good night."

She ruffled my hair. Again.

"Good night." I whispered into empty space.

And that was the third time Weasley messed with my hair.

* * *

It was right before the Quidditch World Cup—the day we met almost all in the Weasley- Potter family (Hailey and I came to the conclusion to call them Wotters, but I find the nickname ridiculous and sounded like an animal, so I'm not going to do it.).

The family was seriously like one of those military academies we study in Muggle Studies (again, do _not _be surprised). They were more than a dozen, and their tent was _never_ quiet. It was like living in a market with all the noise and the chaos going on.

And so it was lunch, the whole lot of them were crammed outside their seven tents on a long picnic table, talking and swapping stories.

"What did you do now?" Hailey asked Fred amusedly. The three of them, along with James Potter, formed this group called 'Rovers' that's main goal is to wreck havoc. Not that I'm saying that they're not funny.

"He placed dungbombs in the Cauldwell's tent." Roxanne, or Roxy as she liked being called, sniffed bitterly. Unlike her brother, her love for pranks are only seasonal, and usually for revenge, as Al told me once before.

"Dungbombs?" Hailey asked ghastly, noticing Rose nodding with approval. "You should've place _firecrackers _too! Now, that would be epic!"

Rose looked dumbstruck for a moment that made me want to laugh. Fred's eyes widened at the idea. "You're right!"

And that was the time both Roxanne and Rose smacked their foreheads with their palms.

By my other side, I heard James and Louis, another cousin of theirs; argue about how many girls they dated and who's the better snogger. I doubt James would win, especially since he's a year younger and definitely does not have the Veela charm, but that's not taking him down.

"Bollocks, I'm better!"

"Louis, you may have the Veela charm, but mate, this _is_ the Potter charm we're talking about! I'm _obviously_ better!"

"No, I am!"

"NO, ME!"

"NO, I AM!"

"I HAD 25 GIRLS BEFORE YOU!"

"I HAD 30!"

"YOU JUST MADE THAT UP!"

"NO, I DID NOT—"

"Both of you, shut up!" Molly, the ever sensible and prude one, snapped. "Why don't you just ask someone to judge it for you?"

That shut them up. James and Louis exchanged glances and turned to Molly slowly.

"That's… sensible, but you see dear Molly, we wouldn't snog any of our cousins or relatives." Louis drew out the words carefully, as if talking to a child. Molly rolled her eyes and glared at them. "Then find another girl! Just _don't_ _bloody _shout!"

Both of their eyes suddenly darted to Hailey and I turned to them with the best death glare I could ever muster. "You are _not _snogging my sister."

Hailey frowned when she heard my sentence. "Who's going to snog me?"

Her eyebrows were raised but I detected the hind of worry in her voice.

"James and Louis are having competition on who's the better snogger." Dominique supplied her. She frowned. "So?"

"They want you to be judge." Lucy, Molly's more rebellious sister, added.

Hailey pondered about this for awhile as her eyes darted between James and Louis who were both looking determined and hopeful.

"Hailey," I told her warningly.

"Chill," she told me. "I won't do it."

I sighed in relief as I drank water.

"But I'd say Potter wins."

I spat the water out painfully choking as Rose and Al rubbed my back. "What?"

James grinned triumphantly at Louis, who rolled his eyes. I looked at Hailey with wide eyes. "Since when did—"

"Scorp," she rolled her eyes. "Both were done on accident, and both suffered the way you and Father would have wanted it."

I still grumbled as she turned away. I felt familiar hands brush against my hair and looked up to see Rose grinning at me, a little taint of pink on her cheeks. "It's okay."

"Why do you even keep messing my hair?" I muttered to no one in particular, but she heard it. When she did, her blush deepened and she looked away.

"Because it looked cuter on you."

And that was the fourth time Rose Weasley messed my hair. I kept it that way ever since.

* * *

My stomach fluttered insanely. I have no idea why.

My heart kept beating against my chest as I laid in my room in the Slytherin Dormitory. I can't do it. I _can't _stop thinking about her. And it sounds very gay, but when I do I feel like drowning in jittery feelings.

I don't like it, but I'm not saying I hate it either.

Lately, my mind is filled with Rose Weasley and her hair and her laugh and her smile and her blushes and the way she bites her lower lip and wrings her hands together and her hands through my hair. Her hands through my hair. _Her hands through my hair_. I run a hand through my hair, as if doing so would catch her hand in mine.

But it doesn't. _And I actually felt disappointment, which was incredibly stupid._

So, I realize that Rose I-like-your-hair-when-it's-messy Weasley is not messing up with my hair now.

She's messing up with my mind.

Maybe it was the first time Weasley messed up with my mind.

* * *

And so after the Christmas vacation in sixth year, after Rose and I legalized our relationship in front of our parents, I held her hand under the Gryffindor table, not caring if someone is looking or not.

So when I saw James bloody Potter mess up my sister's hair on that very same day, I wasn't, in the very least, happy.

* * *

_**I don't like long chapters. I don't like long one shots. I almost died out of boredom while typing this. I hope the opposite happened to you. Meheh.**_


End file.
